


Three Terrible Schemes to turn the Dál Riata into a Fun and Exciting Establishment

by hibernate



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibernate/pseuds/hibernate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamsin is pretty sure it's doomed to fail, not that she cares. She's got bigger fish to fry, and she definitely has more fun places to party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Terrible Schemes to turn the Dál Riata into a Fun and Exciting Establishment

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CommonComitatus for the beta!

**1.**

It's not that Tamsin has anything against the idea of placing a waystation in a bar, but the Dál Riata is, as far as she can tell, not a particularly awe-inspiring example of one. 

For one thing, it's almost entirely void of people. For another, the first thing she sees upon entering is a sign, announcing in big, pink letters: ' THE GREAT FAE BAKE-OFF'. Which kinda explains the lack of people.

"I'm here to sign in," she tells the man behind the bar, and he takes her to a back-room, retrieving a book that looks like it stems from the cretaceous period and putting it on the table.

"There's this new thing you might have heard of," she remarks. "It's called 'technology'."

Just because you're Fae doesn't mean you have to be a fucking _stereotype_. The whole 'party like it's 1499' thing is so tiring.

The old man - Trick, apparently - ignores her comment, dipping his dinosaur chic quill in ink. "Mother and father's names?"

Realizing it's one of _those_ waystations, that ones that want to get all up in your secrets and make friends with them - funny how it's always the waystations run by the Light that are the most annoying - Tamsin rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I have permission to be out until midnight."

Trick gives her a somewhat dark look (Tamsin gives him her best fake smile back), before continuing his line of questions. "Clan?"

"Wu-Tang?"

"Reason for being in the area?"

"Work."

"Of what kind?"

"Of the work kind."

"Very well," he sighs, finally. "Sign your name here."

She signs her name - her real name - in runes; hard lines tasting of stone. "Valkyrie," she says, before he can ask.

Trick studies her, a curious expression on his face. "You're a long way from home."

"Not really."

"Well, the Dal is always open for you." He smiles. "Except when we're closed, of course. Even keepers of waystations have to sleep sometimes."

Apparently he thinks he's funny. 

There's also a warmth to the offer that makes Tamsin scowl, biting back the comment on her lips. It's so typical of the Light to offer more than they can give. "This isn't really my kind of bar," she says, the words coming out sharp. "Antiques are so yesterday. _Literally_."

Trick frowns, as if she’s just insulted his first-born child.

She could go on, but right about then the door is blown open by some sort of invisible force, followed by a pie elegantly flying through the open doorway and landing smack down straight on Trick's ancient book.

"Apple, I think," Tamsin says, when she starts to suspect that Trick is frozen in time, as he does nothing but stare at the pie-covered book with a slack-jawed expression on his face. "Maybe you should help your friends with their little baking experiment."

Standing up, abruptly enough to nearly knock down the chair he was sitting on, Trick rushes out through the door, firmly shouting, " _PUT THE PIES DOWN!_ "

Tamsin is left behind, still seated.

The name she signed in the book is now covered by apple pie; letters smudged to the point where she can no longer make them out. That's what her real name is now, anyway - faded, smudged, distorted. Maybe, if she's lucky enough to pull this thing off, she'll get to live another life and choose another name, one that'll stick.

But first, there's another job to do. Through the open door, Tamsin allows her gaze to linger on her. Bo, the sparkly Succubus, too special to pick a side. Tamsin has read her file, and it's all she needs to know. She's seen her type before, the kind that thinks they can do whatever they please, as if the rules don't apply to them.

She's holding a sword, and at her side is her little human, armed with a very menacing rolling pin. "I don't even like pie," Bo says, loud enough for Tamsin to hear.

The human makes a horrified face. "Don't say that! It's sweet and tasty and juicy and only temporarily evil!" 

Bo slashes her sword through one of the pies; it flops around uselessly on the table for a few moments, before exploding with a splash, covering Bo in its remains.

Tamsin has a mission and she always delivers. Looking at the pie-covered Succubus, she's pretty sure _that_ part of her job here is going to be a piece of cake. 

So to speak.

 

**2.**

A Valkyrie is never free, but when Tamsin effectively tells the Morrigan that she's done running her little errands, that's what it feels like.

She's making enemies left and right these days, and it's kinda exhilarating. Either way, it won't matter much soon. There are worse people to anger than the Morrigan. There are bigger missions to complete. All she has to do now is wait.

Wait, and not get herself involved in anything else.

At the Dál, Tamsin throws back a shot of vodka, swallowing it down with some beer, before swaggering over to where Bo is standing. "Are we all supposed to pretend your little human hasn't gone totally psycho?"

Bo makes a frowny face that manages to be both disapproving and worried. "Why do you care?"

"Oh, believe me, I don't." Tamsin glances to the other side of the bar, where Kenzi is busy doing... whatever it is she's doing. "But if she tears this place apart, where would Trick put his collection of rare and worthless 12th century junk?"

It's meant to be a joke, but Bo doesn't even smile. 

"Not that it'd be a big loss or anything," Tamsin adds, muttering under her breath. "I don't even know why you guys keep going here. There's like four more fun places to be on this street alone, and that's not even counting my truck."

"I've been in your truck," Bo replies. "It wasn't that much fun."

Tamsin crosses her arms, somewhat put out by Bo's comment. As if Bo knows the first thing about her and what kind of fun her truck can be. 

She's not even sure why she's here, at the Dál, anymore. It made sense while she was doing the Morrigan's dirty job, but there's nothing keeping her around now. If Kenzi dismantles the whole place because no one wants to face up to the fact that she needs to talk about her Kitsune issues, it's so not Tamsin's problem. The girl has actual _friends_ , even if most of them are too stupid to see what's right in front of them. At least they care, in their own little useless ways.

"Sorry," Bo says, with a sigh. "I kinda have other things on my mind. Like Dawning things."

She briefly grazes her hand against Tamsin's wrist, and Tamsin can't stop herself from twitching, taking a step away. "Whatever."

"I mean, I'm sure I'll be fine. Trick says I'll be great, and everyone goes through this, right? But it's kind of a lot to spring on someone out of the blue, you know?"

Tamsin rolls her eyes. These idiots really _are_ going to fill Bo's head with bullshit about what a piece of cake the Dawning is. If it wasn't so very much not her business, she'd tell Bo exactly what it's like.

Bo grabs her arm, firm but gentle, fingers closing around Tamsin's elbow. "Hey," she says. "For what it's worth, I really appreciate your help. You know, with finding Kenzi."

"No worries."

"I know you still think I killed that woman."

"You don't know what I think," Tamsin snaps, and it's kinda disconcerting that she's not sure she knows herself anymore. It makes her feel kind of sick to her stomach. It's really getting on her nerves, this whole thing. She has more important things to worry about, yet she can't seem to stop thinking about these _idiots_ who hang out at the dullest bar in existence.

Annoyed, she pulls away from Bo, shivering when she's free of her touch. "See you around. Well, if you make it through the Dawning."

"You're leaving already? Kenzi hasn't even gotten the mechanical bull started yet."

Bo gives her a look that a golden retriever puppy would be jealous of, and for one, fleeting moment of temporary insanity, Tamsin really does want to stay. The memory of Bo feeding on her rises unbidden - her hands grabbing Tamsin's jacket, her breath on Tamsin's face, that strange tugging deep inside as Bo had drawn out her chi. It's kind of disturbing.

"Yeaaah," Tamsin says, making a face, "I think I'll pass."

She leaves, and stays awake all night staring at the ceiling of her truck. 

(The mechanical bull turns out to be somewhat of a disaster, as it apparently attracts the attention of a rare bovine under-Fae with somewhat amorous intentions. Tamsin is kinda glad she missed it.)

 

**3.**

For some reason, she finds herself back at the Dál. 

Bo is behind the bar this time, bright smile and low-cut tank top, not that Tamsin is looking. 

She'd dressed up the last time she was here - _sparkly_ , Bo had said; Tamsin had felt like an idiot. And then she'd finally gotten the sign she'd been waiting for, the sign she'd been afraid to miss. Cards, cards, everywhere (she's pretty sure she pulled one out of her own cleavage at one point); she should have known it wouldn't be subtle - it's never been a talent of his.

She'd gone back to her truck and sworn never to return to this stupid bar. 

And now here she is again, not quite sure why she can't seem to stay away.

"Hey, you," Bo says when she spots her. "And welcome to Exotic Drink Night."

Bo gestures towards a sign behind the bar that spells out that very thing. Tamsin quickly decides she'd prefer to not know anything about it.

Sliding onto a bar stool, Tamsin leans down on her elbows. "Congratulations on making it through your Dawning. My money was on you ending up drooling in Trick's basement."

"Well, I appreciate your confidence."

"Where's Trick?"

"Apparently he has 'important business' elsewhere. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but the good news is," - Bo beams - "he left us in charge."

"We're celebrating," Kenzi adds. "With drinks! Don't tell Trick. He has weird rules about not drinking while you're working. _Hello_ , why else would you work in a bar?"

Bo laughs, touching Tamsin's arm. "Did you have a good time on your secret mission?"

"What?" Tamsin asks, frowning and giving Bo's hand, still planted over Tamsin's wrist, a pointed look. Bo does not get it.

"Dyson said that's why you took time off work. That thing with the Dark Fae bar. Thanks for taking care of that, by the way."

In truth, Tamsin has absolutely no idea what Bo's talking about, but she's not exactly about to tell her the real reason she skipped work. "Something strong," she says instead, and Kenzi lights up like a Christmas tree.

The drink she presents Tamsin with is bright purple, the bottom inching towards a deep red, and it smells sweet and bitter; pomegranate, cherries and alcohol.

"Fruity!" Kenzi promises with an encouraging smile, and it's not exactly Tamsin's usual thing, but it'll do. She empties the glass in one quick swig, enjoying the way the liqueur burns going down. It makes her dizzy, and she doesn't think to question it until the glass is empty and it's too late.

"Oh, _great_ ," she has the time to say, before everything goes black.

*

The runes on the stone spell her true name, distinct and sharp, serpentine across the hard surface. There is rain in the air, and when Tamsin draws her fingers over the runes, her skin comes back wet. 

She is in a forest, surrounded by fog and tall trees that smell like home. Moss grows on the stone in front of her, and, as she watches, it spreads over the surface, over the runes. The wetness on her hand, from the stone, heats her skin, and when she looks, she sees that her fingers are covered in blood. 

Out of the fog, Bo appears, dressed in red.

"I have what you're looking for," Bo says, eyes gleaming blue. 

Tamsin doesn't remember what it is, but she knows, instinctively, that whatever Bo is offering, she needs it. "And what do you want in return?" she asks, because there's always a price.

"I'm a Succubus." Bo shrugs. "I need to feed."

"I'm no-one's meal," Tamsin sneers, but she takes a step forward even so, letting Bo come close. The kiss starts sweet, like one shared in another forest, and then Bo starts feeding. Tamsin's eyes flutter closed for a moment, body filling with warmth as energy is drawn from her. Limbs tingling, it takes effort to tear herself away, closing her mouth stubbornly as she pushes Bo backwards, until she can slam her back into the stem of a mighty pine. 

Bo makes a noise that sounds far from displeased. Figures she'd like a bit of wrestling with her snack, but Tamsin has no intention of doing this on anyone's terms but her own. She's the one in control here - not Bo or anyone else. 

But she is beautiful, every bit of her Succubus, irresistible by design. "Enough," Tamsin says, closing her eyes when she catches herself staring.

When she opens them again, Bo is gone. At Tamsin's feet stands a burial urn, and on the side of it there is a name carved into the bone. Crouching, she wipes the sand from it with her sleeve, and the name appears in crisp, exact runes.

For a moment there she'd thought she could escape.

The skin of her fingers turns grey, spreading up her arm, as skin and bone and everything else that she is turns to ash.

*

It takes her a few moments to realize she's awake, sprawled out on the floor. Someone is holding her head in an uncomfortable angle, and there's a glass pressed to her lips, cool liquid wetting her tongue. 

"Get off!" Tamsin mutters, pushing the glass away, struggling against the person holding her. Bo and Kenzi swim into focus in front of her, and then Trick, putting the glass to her mouth again.

"Drink this," he says, because apparently he does have a sense of humor after all.

"You're kidding me if you think I'm gonna drink anything else from here again," Tamsin says, shooting Kenzi a look. At least the girl has the decency to look kind of guilty.

"Drink it," Trick repeats, "or you'll start dreaming again."

That is a fairly persuasive argument, Tamsin has to admit. She reaches for the glass and empties it, making a face and barely suppressing a shudder. "Could you possibly have found something more foul tasting? I hate this bar."

"You'll be fine," Trick says, patting her on her shoulder with a smile. It's quickly replaced by a stern frown as he turns to Bo and Kenzi. "And I'm hiring another bartender, so this never happens again."

Kenzi crosses her arms, pouting. "How was I supposed to know the bottom drawer only contained magic alcohol?"

"It was _locked_."

"I _know_ , that's practically an invitation!"

Tamsin struggles to her feet, shoving Bo away when she tries to help, because it's pretty much the last thing she needs or wants right now. When she stalks off, Bo follows, catching up to her in the doorway. 

"Hey, no need to get all weirdly defensive," Bo says. "I was just trying to help you out. It's what friends do."

For a moment, Tamsin is worried that Bo is going to try to _hug_ her or something. "I don't really do the whole _friendship_ thing," she says, making sure to roll her eyes at the word friendship.

"That's a shame," Bo replies. "because I was just starting to think of you like one."

Tamsin glares at her, resisting the sudden urge to kick her in the shins. "Like what?"

"Like a friend."

Taking a deep breath, Tamsin fists her hands. "I'm very happy for you. Now could you please get out of my way?"

Walking back to her truck, her steps are steady and measured, controlled, but the rest of her is anything but. She's crumbling, breaking, shattering. She's as good as dead, and why does the one thing that could keep her alive--

Everything she touches turns to ash.


End file.
